


No Better

by BeccabooO1O



Series: when there's strength in our numbers [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chicago, Churches & Cathedrals, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, I'm all about them tropes, I'm always a slut for tropes, Restaurants, Sharing a Bed, Wedding, bout them tropes, but not Dean's, not sorry, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:44:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeccabooO1O/pseuds/BeccabooO1O
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I honestly had no idea." She said into the receiver. The phone was cradled between her shoulder and her cheek as she carried numerous volumes of ancient myths from the bookshelves to the table stationed in the middle of the little library that the Bunker provided. - Attending a wedding weekend with Dean. Multichapter fic. Dean/Reader (OC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. get through the day

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: ‘Reader doesn’t want to go to a family event because that side of her family is kind of judgmental, but Dean convinces her to go and he goes with her and helps her through it somehow’ as requested by an anonymous user off of tumblr.
> 
> Story and chapter title from Lorde's 'No Better'

“I honestly had no idea.” She said into the receiver. The phone was cradled between her shoulder and her cheek as she carried numerous volumes of ancient myths from the bookshelves to the table stationed in the middle of the little library that the Bunker provided.

“But you received the ‘save the date’, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Aunt Moira.” Of course she got the fucking ‘save the date’. And as soon as she saw it on the kitchen table, she wadded it up and threw into the trash bin - where it belongs.

“And you got the invitation e-mail?” Her aunt inquired. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Dean sit down across from her, trying and failing to discretely eavesdrop on her conversation as he opened one of the books that she had set down on the table earlier.

“Yes, I got the email.” She answered in a sigh. “And I also got the ‘plus-one’ attachment as well.” She felt the older Winchester’s eyes on her - and made a point not to return it. She shouldn’t have expected anything else from her family, but that familiar pang of disappointment rose up her chest when she opened her email and found that damned message.

“Sweetie,” She cringed at the condescending tone. “You’re not eighteen anymore.” She knew what was coming through that receiver next. “You can’t run around the country like a teenager on a college road trip.”

“Aunt Moira,” She closed her eyes and prepared for what was bound to ensue between the two. “I have to travel for my job, which-”

“Yes, but it’s improper for a woman your age not to settle down and have children.” Her aunt interrupted her. “It’s your duty, really, dear.” Well, that was like a slap to the face. She heard Dean snickering and she shot him a glare. And then she had her own little ‘Eureka!’ moment. She just needed to find the guts to do it. “We just want what’s best for you.”

And that’s when she found the guts.

“Well, Aunt Moira,” She smirked to herself. “As it so happens, I am in a relationship.”

“Really, dear?” She could hear the skepticism through the phone line.

“Oh yeah, Moira. And he would love to join me at the wedding.” She silently congratulated herself: crisis averted. “So you can tell Amy to put down two for us, okay?”

“Oh, yes , dear. Now, tell me, what’s-”

“Sorry,” She interrupted her family member. “I’ve got to finish folding the laundry. Hugs and kisses, Moira.”

“Hugs and kisses, dear. I certainly can not wait to see this man.” And then she hung up. She set the phone down on the wooden table and sighed with content.

Finally.

“So, who’s your boyfriend?” Her eyes snapped open and trained themselves on Dean. “Because I would have thought,” The older Winchester continued, “That I would have met the lucky guy - or at least heard of him.”

“Do you really think that I have time to be in a committed relationship with anything other than that tub of ice cream in the freezer?” She asked before opening up one of the books from her rather tall stack. “Seriously, these books are getting more action than I have in a long time.”

“Point taken.” Dean conceded. “But what are you going to do for this thing you’ve got to go to?” Well, shit. She hadn’t thought about that.

“Well,” She started slowly as she fabricated a pathetic - yet doable - solution. “I’ll just tell them that he was too busy saving the world or something when I get there.”

“They’ll see right through your bullshit, apple pie.”

She sighed in frustration. “Then do you have any ideas, pretty boy?”

“What you need is a date for this wedding.”

“No shit.” She deadpanned.

“I mean a real date.” He explained with a grimace.

“And where do you suppose I find one?” She asked sarcastically. Seriously, did he think that she could just go out into the town near the Bunker and find an attractive date that would be cool with being her fake boyfriend in front of a family that just loved to pick at all the little things that shouldn’t matter, but end up mattering to her anyways?

“You’re looking right at him.” Dean gestured to himself.

She just stared at him.

Okay, so when she told her aunt that she was bringing her ‘boyfriend’, her mind had instantly flashed to Dean. She wasn’t going to lie: he would be perfect. He definitely looked the part, that’s for sure. And she knew for a fact that he looked great in a suit.

“But, why?” She found herself asking. Did Dean really know all the things he was bound to get into if he did go with her to the wedding as her date?

And the fact that it was Dean who was coming up with this idea just made her wary of what could possibly be going through that gorgeously freckled head of his.

“I don’t know.” He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m in a giving mood?”

She gave him a disbelieving look and he continued, “Look, you can take it or leave it. And you know Sammy doesn’t do that kind of stuff.” It was true, they practically had to drag the younger Winchester with them on their last case where they had to go undercover to retrieve a haunted painting. Yeah, it wasn’t one of their best hunts.

So that really did leave Dean as her only hope. “We have one week to prepare. Do you think you can handle it?”

“I think I can handle your family, apple pie.”

She threw a disbelieving look his way before she returned to her reading. _We’ll see about that, Winchester._

_We’ll see._


	2. waiting for the sun to rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala. She and Dean had been on the road for about three hours and Dean’s ‘mullet-rock’ cassette tape has repeated its entirety two times already. And there was still at least seven hours left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Broods' 'Superstar'

She was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala. She and Dean had been on the road for about three hours and Dean’s ‘mullet-rock’ cassette tape has repeated its entirety two times already. And there was still at least seven hours left.

“Can we please listen to something else? I think my ears are going to bleed out.”

“C’mon, apple pie. You know the rules. Driver picks the music and shotgun shuts her cakehole.”

“That’s a stupid rule.” She commented before looking out the passenger side window. Silence enveloped the Impala for a period of time.

“So, what about your family?” Dean’s deep and rough voice penetrated the silence. She stiffened in surprise.

“My family?” No one had ever asked her that question before. And she had never told anyone, not even Bobby when he found her wandering around southern South Dakota - just trying to forget about her past.

“Yeah, what are they like?” Dean asked.

She looked at him as she formed her answer. “They’re not like us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And?” Dean asked.

“And what?” She asked, wanting to evade this conversation for as long as she could.

“There’s got to be more.” Dean pressed on, seemingly genuinely curious about her life.

“Did you look up the place that we’re staying?” She didn’t look at the Winchester.

Instead she started to pull at the hem of her dress, hoping that it would be enough for the dinner tonight. The two would get there just in time to drop their stuff off in their room and get to the dinner. She was glad the Dean took her advice and traded the jeans and one of his flannels to a pair of black pants and a button up shirt that would put every other man at the dinner to shame.

Not that she had ever told him that - she wouldn’t want the older Winchester to get a big head or anything like of the sort.

“It looks alright.” She could practically hear the confusion in his voice.

She laughed humorlessly. “Alright?” She repeated, smiling skeptically towards the Winchester. “It’s more that ‘alright’. St Mary of the Angels is an architectural feat. It probably cost Moira a fortune to book that place for the ceremony - especially in the spring. Not like her overzealous spending of money really matters to her.” She was rambling on about the church, but it’s not like she could stop anytime soon.

She remembered attending Christmas and Easter mass there with her mother and father as a little girl and spending the couple hours or so just staring at the paintings on the ceiling and the colored light shining through the stain glassed windows - it was all she could do to keep herself from squirming in the too-hard pews in front of the alter.

It was always a special occasion to go there since her parents attended mass at a smaller church out of town a little. They would go to St. Mary’s when they had the family reunions over the holidays.

After mass they would spend a day or two at her Aunt Moira and Uncle Jim’s house - which was more like a mansion, if you were to ask her seven year old self. She remembered spending most of her time in the library, making it the highlight of the trip to Chicago to read all the stories that she could. Sometimes, her father would join her when things would start to get out of control. The time she had spent in that library summed up most of her favorite memories of her life.

But that was all in the past.

She wasn’t that seven year old girl who still believed that if she tried hard enough, she could live up to the crippling expectations that she was supposed to inherit within her influential family. Now she was a grown woman, about to meet up with her family that never thought she was good enough - no matter what she did.

After what seemed like years of classic rock torture - and a couple stops for food and gas -  the two finally made it to their destination: the windy city of Chicago, Illinois.

Dean refused the pay a valet to park the Impala, which wasn’t very surprising. “Nobody puts their hands on my baby but me.” He had told her as they drove through the underground parking lot - as if she didn’t already know that.

Dean found a parking spot and quickly slid out of the driver’s seat. In the time that it took for her to undo her seat belt, Dean was opening her door and helping her out of her seat - which was odd.

She was about to ask what he was up to when he explained in a low voice, “Showtime, apple pie.” A shiver crawled down her spine. She couldn’t deny that the way he used her nickname did things to her, but she knew that it was all part of the act. He couldn’t feel the same that she did, and that was a fact that she had to hold close to her heart.

He popped the trunk and got both their suitcases out. She reached for hers but he shielded it with his body, keeping it out of reach. She looked up to find him with a playful smirk on his face. “Not gonna happen.”

Before she could retaliate, she heard a younger voice call from behind her. “I’ll take your bags, sir.” She turned away from Dean and saw a young man - maybe in his twenties - approach them. He was wearing a uniform and looked every bit of the staff that was to be expected at a five star hotel such as this one.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, uncertainty hinting through his voice. She knew that he didn’t really like his things to be touched by others.

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” The young man reached for the suitcases. Dean relinquished his hold on them. Once the bell hop got a firm hold on the handles, he said, “If you’ll follow me.” And with that, he lead the pair up to the main lobby.

The room was large and open - but more importantly, it looked extravagant - so it obviously was expensive. _Moira must have gone all out with this weekend_. She thought as she followed her bell hop up to the lobby desk.

The blonde behind the desk - this girl had to be younger than her by at least five years - opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped when another voice chimed in, “Sweetie, is that you?” She had to take a deep breath and stop herself from rolling her eyes. She quickly prepared herself for what was about to happen as she turned around to face the owner of that regally whimsical voice, putting on a fake smile that she had perfected in her teenage years.

“Aunt Moira!” She swiftly walked up to her aunt and gently put her arms around the middle aged woman. The two women quickly pecked each other on the respective cheeks before pulling away.

“I see you haven’t been putting those diet pills I sent you to good use, darling.” The older woman commented offhandedly as she gave her niece a once over - top to bottom and back up to the top again.

The hunter opened her mouth to say something, but felt Dean fingers feather across her back. She stood away from her family member and into his hand, finding an odd sort of comfort in the fact that she wasn’t going to be journeying through this torturous weekend alone.

“This is Dean.” She introduced her ‘boyfriend’ to her aunt. He reached out with the hand not leaving light trails on her back to take the older woman’s hand in greeting, which was limp in thinly veiled disdain. He pulled back and slid his hand from her back down to her hand, entwining their fingers.

She suppressed the urge to jump as a reaction to the physical contact. She almost forgot that as they did this whole ‘relationship’ thing, they’d have to be touching.

And a lot.

She really didn’t think this through.

“I’m surprised you could find someone like this one, sweetie.” Moira commented in that sickly sweet voice of hers that was used to belittle the hunter when she was a teenager. Dean’s hand squeezed hers reassuringly as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

It seemed like all her family wanted to do was drag her down beneath them just because she wasn’t marrying a rich Chicago attorney at a young age or going into the family consulting agency like the rest of her family and her parents had before they died.

“Well,” The older woman looked between her and Dean. “You two are just in time for the rehearsal dinner.”

“But what about our bags?” She asked, eyeing the bellhop who was off to the side, waiting for further instruction.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. The bellhop will take them for you. That’s his job.” Moira turned around and started walking towards the main doors of the hotel. The hunter had to fight to bite her tongue and not lash out at her aunt - that would definitely not be a good start to the weekend.

“Come along, you two. We’ll be late if you waste anymore time here.” Moira called, already multiple feet in front of the pair.

Dean nudged her towards where her aunt was waiting for them. She let go of Dean’s hand and quickly walked up to the young bellhop, fishing out a twenty out of her wallet. He looked at her in surprise. “Thank you so much, ma’am.”

“No,” She smiled. “Thank _you_ for taking our bags for us.” She strode up to her aunt with Dean not even a few feet behind her. She smiled at Moira, who gave her an unamused look before leading them to the curb where she hailed a taxi. The three got in and soon enough, they had arrived at the rehearsal dinner for her cousin, Amy.


	3. glory and gore (go hand in hand)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as she entered the restaurant, she knew that she was way in over her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Lorde's 'Glory and Gore'

As soon as she entered the restaurant, she knew that she was way in over her head.

And she absolutely hated it.

Moira led her and Dean up to the roped off area, where the dinner was being held. The older woman guided the two over to their places, marked with elegant name cards. Dean pulled her chair out for her and she couldn’t help but smile - if not a little questioning - at the Winchester. He really was planning on going the whole way with this little sham of theirs.

She looked around the table. The older woman had gotten name cards for everybody, and it seemed like she and Dean were the last ones to arrive.

She was able to recognize some of the guests that were sitting around the rather large table. Some were family members, yet most of them looked like work colleagues or friends. There was no way that all these people were in the wedding party, she didn’t even know what she and Dean were doing at this dinner - she wasn’t in any part of the wedding. But Moira had insisted that they come, so she made Dean get up earlier than what was usual for him - for the both of them - and leave the Bunker behind for the weekend.

As dinner progressed on, no one really asked her any questions - everyone’s attention was directed towards Amy and her fiance, Peter.

The two hunters could tell right away that Peter was an arrogant dick. Just with the way he acted towards Amy and the rest of the party seemed to ooze with sleazy self-assurance. She could still feel his disturbing leer directed towards her from when she and Dean entered the party area - The Winchester must have felt her unease then because he just took hold of her hand and led her to their assigned seats.

But that was beside the point.

She was thankful that the spotlight wasn’t on her like she had feared during the car ride. She could enjoy the unsurprisingly good  - and oh so expensive - food.

She could tell that Dean was enjoying his meal as well. She took a glance over at him and noticed some of sauce on his cheek. However in Hell’s name he was able to get it so off course from his mouth was beyond her.

“Dean,” She started quietly, trying not to direct attention.

He looked at her and asked, his mouth full of food, “What?” She gave him a disapproving look. He swallowed his food before repeating, “What?” She pointed to the spot on his cheek. He stuck out his tongue - like an adorable child - and tried to retrieve the sauce. He looked at her expectantly. She just shook her head and laughed.

Before she could stop herself, she licked her thumb and reached over to his cheek, swiped the offending red sauce off his skin, and wiped it on her napkin. She didn’t realize the gravity of her action until she looked back up at Dean and saw the look on his face. It was something deep that she didn’t think would ever be directed towards her. She felt her cheeks - and other things - heating up when his intense gaze didn’t leave her.

The two only looked away when one of the people near them observed, “It’s so nice to see two people so in love.” The flush dusting her cheeks started to spread down her neck. Was she that obvious? She dared to look at the Winchester and noticed that his ears were too reddening. His own skin flushed down the back of his neck. She found herself wondering how far the flushing traveled and whether she could trail it with her-

Which she stopped thinking immediately.

But the woman just smiled at the two before looking back down to the head of the table, as if she didn’t just cause some very unnecessary tension between the two during an already tense situation. But nobody had said anything else to the two and she figured that the other guests were just too involved in the amazing food to say anything else. Which she was thankful for.

Hopefully, no one would say anything else. And as they say: so far, so good.

That was, until people around the table started asking about her and Dean’s ‘relationship’. That’s what got her nervous. They didn’t really talk about it on the way here. She figured that it would just come naturally to her. But, oh lord, was she wrong.

She found herself fidgeting with the hem of her dress from under the table to keep herself from doing something that she might regret. Dean had noticed this - of course he did, he noticed just about everything with his hunting senses - and covered both of her fretting hands with one of his, halting her movements.

"It just seems so sudden.” Moira had said. The female hunter itched to start fidgeting again.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, rubbing circles into the palm of her hand, which helped to calm her a little.

“Well, if you’ve been together for as long as you have,” Moira looked at the two. “Then why haven’t I heard about it.”

“We were friends before we started going out.” Dean said with ease. He let go of her and and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his side, smiling at her aunt. “So technically, we have been together for a while. It was just official a couple months back.” And then he gave the table the patented Winchester smile that was always bound to woo everyone.

And it did.

She turned back to her aunt and caught her usually poised mask crumpling into one of distaste. “So, Dan,” Moira started.

“Dean.” The Winchester said, a little edge to his otherwise charming voice.

“What exactly do you do?” She continued, as if Dean had never corrected her. This had piqued the interests of many people around the table - even Amy and Peter. The female hunter looked at Dean, wondering what he was going to say.

“Well, Moira,” Dean began, thinking of a way to come up with a believable cover story. “I work for the FBI.”

“Do you do business for them, or maybe a liaison of sorts?” Moira asked promptly. The hunter should have foreseen that her aunt would jump straight to business. That’s what she had always done. To be in Moira’s good graces, you either had to be in the business sector or you would have to be sitting on a fairly large sum of cash. Neither she nor Dean were either of those, so the only thing that the hunter could do was grab onto his knee and hope for the best.

She felt his body stiffen at her touch, but then relax again as he answered, “I’m a field agent, actually.” Dean was surprised that he was able to hide the smirk that he oh so wanted to show off at the increasingly intrigued looks from around the large table.

“That sound so adventurous!” One young lady - one of Amy’s many bridesmaids - near the couple commented excitedly.

“Yes, it does.” Moira added. “Tell us more, Dean.” The look that Moira shot towards the Winchester was all but encouraging, though, as if she were a wolf cornering an innocent rabbit.

But Dean Winchester was definitely not a small, innocent creature.

That she knew.

Just listening to some of the things that he would say from time to time gave off completely sinful intentions. God, some of the things that she wanted to do to him would certainly be seen as sinful in any and every way. She really did want to know just how far that blush of his travelled and what other muscles twitched when she touched them and-

_No! You need to focus on what Dean’s talking about - you can’t just go around fantasizing about your ’boyfriend’ who doesn’t really like you like that. What if you got caught? You would be humiliated in front of everyone and Amy would never let you live it down!_ And just like that, she was brought back to the present where Dean was precariously explaining his line of work towards the table - but mostly to Moira, “-we tend to take care of the rather sensitive cases.” She caught the last bit of Dean’s monologue. By the way everyone was watching him - as if hanging on every one of his words - she believed that he sold his cover pretty solidly.

“If things are as independent for you and your partner as you describe,” Peter criticized in his arrogant tone that made her want to walk up to the man and slap him, “Then who do you report to?”

“You see, Peter,” Dean started, giving off an air of confidence over the groom. “We do check in with our supervisor periodically. To tell you the truth,” Dean looked at her admiringly and for a second, she almost thought it was real. “I practically begged him to give me the time off to attend with this lovely lady.” He smiled down at her and she had no other choice but to smile back.

She heard _‘Awws’_ coming from all sorts of places around the large table and she knew that he had sold it to them. She turned back to the table and rested her head on Dean’s shoulder - it just felt like the right thing to do. His arm tightened around her again and she found her smile growing more genuine as his hand started to rub circles around her shoulder reassuringly.

The conversation returned to the two at the head of the table. “So, Amy and Peter, how did you two meet?”

“I must have told this story a million times already, Aunt Gretchen.” The female in question commented before going into exact detail of the night the soon to be married couple had met a few months ago.

“So,” She dove right in. “We were both attending a gala at the John Hancock Building here in Chicago. I was with Mother,” she gestured to Moira. “Helping her pick out a couple paintings for our personal collection back home. One can only have so much Van Gogh and Monet before it gets to be boring. Right, cousin?” Amy looked directly at her, a large smirk twisting her features.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Amy.” She replied, smiling sweetly at her cousin. Amy was baiting her, she knew this. And she wouldn’t let Amy’s taunts of a life that she had left behind years ago get to her. Not now, and definitely not anytime soon.

Amy’s smirk fell momentarily before she flipped her blond curls over her shoulder. “Well anyways,” She continued as if nothing had happened, “I bumped into him by a painting and we just began talking.” She smiled up at Peter. “It was like love at first sight and I just had to see him again.

“I mean, really,” Amy looked around the table. “Who wouldn’t want a man with good looks, a lot of power, and tons of money to spare?” Peter puffed his chest up at the ego-booster.

She felt Dean’s mouth near her ear. “Oh, yeah,” He whispered, “He really is a dick.”

She marginally turned towards him before commenting in a soft voice, “As if there wasn’t evidence enough.”

“He’s terrible.” Dean agreed quietly.

“He’s worse than you are.” She smirked playfully at him.

He faked astonishment, but he couldn’t hide the smirk gracing his freckled face. “I’m not sure what you mean, apple pie.” They both laughed quietly. She placed her hand lightly on his knee and started to rub small circles lazily onto his pant covered skin as he pulled her in closer, kissed her temple, and returned his attention to Amy’s story - but that damn smile was still on his face.

“And then I said yes!” Amy finished in a shriek of joy. Everyone around the table was enamored with her story. And Peter still emitted arrogance as if it was his job, which - considering he was a powerful defense attorney - was probably true.

“So, dear,” Moira turned her attention towards her niece. “How did you and Dean meet?” At least she got his name correct this time.

She looked at Dean, who gave her a subtle deer in the headlights look. What were they going to tell her? They really hadn’t thought this little charade of theirs through. She’d have to tell Moira the truth, the hunter guessed.

“Well,” She reached for Dean’s larger hand from under the table, reassuring him that she had this one. “Dean and I met at a bar.” It’s not like she was lying, she and Dean did, in fact, meet at a bar. Even though they were on the same hunt, but you know, semantics. She looked over to the head of the table, where Moira, her uncle Jim,  Amy, and Peter were. She noticed the distasteful expression that her aunt wore at the mention of them meeting at a bar.

“I was researching about a few missing person’s reports for one of my papers up in Wisconsin.” She looked around the table, noticing that she had everyone’s attention on her. “I was at this bar, asking the bartender about a few of the people that were missing and this one guy just wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept trying to buy me drinks and take me out to ‘show me his car’.” She used air quotations around the last part, letting go of Dean’s hand momentarily to do so. “He just didn’t understand the word no or something, you know? I just kept brushing him off, hoping he’d get the point and leave me alone, but this ‘car-guy’ just didn’t.

“Next thing I know, someone had come up behind me and told him to stop.” She looked up at Dean and smiled at the memory. “I looked around and there was this guy with the most beautiful pair of green eyes that I had ever seen, asking me if I needed any help.”

“She told me that she could handle herself.” Dean interrupted. “You can be so stubborn sometimes.” Dean admonished, but he was smiling down at her.

“-and he said that he was sure that I could, but that it would be his pleasure to take care of this for me.” Why was he looking at her like that? “So I let him and as soon as ‘car guy’ left, he introduced himself: Dean.” She still couldn’t understand just what was going on in his eyes at that moment as she recanted the very unromantic way the two had met. “He offered to buy me a drink and I turned him down, which he took in stride.” She bumped into his side and he chuckled a little, causing many others around the table to laugh good-naturedly. “But we started talking and I learned more and more about him. I also learned that he was investigating the missing persons as well.”

“I had no idea that she was researching any of that - she never told me.” Dean added.

“You never asked.” Her smile turned cheeky before she continued, “I had gone to one of the missing person’s house the next day to talk with her family and about an hour later, Dean and his partner came in, asking the same questions.”

“She beat me to the punch, finding out who our guy was and calling him out. Turns out it was the man harassing her at the bar that one night. My partner, Sam, and I took him down and brought him in.” Okay, so they were omitting the part that the guy was actually a vampire who was taking away young women to his place for a ‘good time’ and that by ‘bringing him in’ Dean actually meant that they did the whole beheading thing. But those weren’t really necessary to point out to a group of sophisticated and unassuming people, she guessed.

“I thought I’d never see him again.” She admitted, looking down at their interlacing hands before back up at his face.

“And I didn’t think we’d run into her either.” Dean commented, smiling warmly at her and squeezing her hand.

“But I kept getting assigned to go places over the next year-”

“And somehow, my supervisor kept sending my partner and I to those same places at the same time.” Dean added.

“So we kept meeting up accidentally - whether it was at the same bars or in the motel parking lots.”

“It was like at every turn, she was right there, and always one step ahead of us.” He laughed and she hoped that it was of the memories of her beating the two brothers to the families or the graveyards or the morgue.

“And so I just decided to start working with them on their cases. And it was the best decision I’ve ever made.” It was the truth. It was like there was no one else in the restaurant but them. All she could see was Dean and that damn look in his eyes that he kept giving her as he smiled down at her and her admission.

A chorus of _‘Awws’_ and _‘that’s so sweet’_ broke their temporary connection and she turned away from Dean, hoping that he didn’t see that her blush had decided to return, seeping into her face and no doubt down her neck.

As the dinner progressed on, all that she could think about was how she was ever going to survive this weekend with minimum damage.


	4. it feels better biting down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was late when the two finally found their room ('oh no, we have to share a bed')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Lorde's 'Biting Down'

It was late when the two finally found their room. They had left the dinner before any of the people could get rowdy - she really didn’t need her aunt to verbalize how much better Amy was when comparing the two cousins.

“Since it was such a late reservation, we were only able to book you two a room with one bed.” Her cousin explained as the two left the party’s area.

“But I’m sure that shouldn’t be a problem from you. From what I hear, you’re rather irreplaceable to Dean over here.” Peter gestured towards Dean with his thumb and Amy smirked at her from behind her husband to be.

The hunter froze. Was Peter really insinuating - in front of everyone, for that matter - that she had gotten into a relationship mainly for the physical aspect of it, as if she were some sort of sex addict? Or that the only thing she was good at was getting some guy’s rocks off? She didn’t even know the guy, for Christ’s sake.

Dean heard Peter as well and she knew that she’d have to restrain the Winchester from lashing out at the lawyer. She really didn’t need to add a scene onto the list of things for her aunt for pick away at. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gently held him back, counting down from five - she never seemed to make the full countdown from ten wherever her family was involved - as he drew back fractionally. She found herself hoping that they could just leave quietly.

But she knew that he wasn’t going to stay quiet, like she would have wanted him to do.

He opened his mouth. And here it comes. “There won’t one problem at all.” Dean gritted out as he lead her out of the swanky restaurant and towards a taxi that would lead them back to the hotel and eventually to their room.

Once Dean opened the door, she made a beeline for her bag, not paying attention to any of her surroundings. She needed to wash off all the judgement that stuck to her skin like sweat - and as soon as possible.

She opened the bathroom door and all she could see was the magnificent shower in front of her. Were those water pressure controls? She must have been in heaven, there was no other explanation as to why all these little bells and whistles were added to the shower system.

She quickly stripped down and turned on the water, messing around with the settings until she found the perfect fit. The falling water relaxed her and it never turned cold. It was perfect. Maybe she should attend expensive weddings more often.

But, sadly, all good things must come to an end.

She turned off the water, remorsefully, and changed into something she could wear to bed - one of Dean’s shirts that he had never asked for back. The black material went about halfway down her thighs and it was too comfortable to give back.

She walked out and found Dean sitting on the bed, talking on the phone with Sam.

“What? Yeah, it sounds like a ghost haunting to me, too.” Dean looked up and noticed that she was there. He seemed to pause all his movements, his lips parted slightly as he gave her a once over, his eyes taking a moment longer than necessary on her choice of sleepwear. She watched as his tongue swept across his lower lip subconsciously. He was brought out of whatever funk he had just experienced when Sam repeated his name for the third time. “Wait, I’ll see what she thinks.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and focused on her face.

“There’s been mysterious deaths in an old Victorian house over in a small town in Alabama.” Dean reported. “Within the first month, the new owners end up dead in their beds - seems to be suffocation.”

She thought about it for a moment before asking, “No other leads?”

Dean brought the phone back to her ear, checking with Sam. “No other leads.” He told her.

“Then, yeah. It sounds like a ghost to me - or maybe a poltergeist.” She shrugged. “But it’s definitely a haunting of some sort - that I’m sure of.”

Dean nodded before returning to his brother. “Yeah, she thinks so, too. Call if you need anything.” And with that, he hung up the phone, tossed it on the bed, and took a moment to look at her - really look at her - in nothing but a pair of underwear and his black shirt.

“The shower in there is amazing.” She gushed. “There’s water pressure controls in there and it’s like heaven.” She smiled at the memory from not too long ago.

“Is that my shirt?” He asked, a playful smile pulling at his lips.

“Yeah,” She answered nonchalantly. “What, do you want it back?” She said cheekily, starting to pull the oversized shirt up over her thighs.

She wasn’t actually going to take it off. It was for the joke.

Right?

He cleared his throat. “Nope. You’re good.” She plopped down on the bed. “Sammy got word of a case over in Alabama, so he’s gonna go check it out.” She gave a noise in acknowledgement before looking around the room.

Yeah, there was no way that either her or Dean would be able to sleep comfortably on the small love seat or any of the chairs around the hotel room. So that meant that the two would have to share the bed.

What better way to make an already charged situation even worse.

_Lovely_.

She turned her head to look at Dean to tell him something about their obvious sleeping arrangements when her voice died in her throat. The green eyed Winchester was - yet again - staring at her. His eyes trailed up towards her face and connected with hers. The two stayed like that, just looking at each other, wondering what the other was thinking.

Dean looked away and cleared his throat. “I’m gonna get cleaned up, test out that shower.” He announced, pulling himself up off the bed and making his way towards the larger bathroom.

“Mmhm.” Her eyes followed his form until he closed the bathroom door.

She turned to face forward again, wondering what the hell she was doing.

Why for fuck’s sake was she staring after a man whom she knew to be emotionally unavailable?

Why did she do this to herself?

As she was silently berating herself, she tried to keep her eyes open, but they kept closing on her. Once she heard the shower turn on, she slid under the comforter. She fought to keep her eyes open, wanting to talk to Dean about some ground rules for the bed before she fell asleep.

After a while she heard the shower turn off and soon enough, there was a warm body joining her. She turned over, looking at him. She could just make out Dean’s silhouette in the moonlight shining through the thin curtains.

“No unwanted funny business.” Was all she remembered telling him before she moved closer and let unconsciousness take her over for the night. Well, that and him chuckling after her announcement.


	5. be a part of the love club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, she woke up, her limbs wrapped around something warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Lorde's 'Love Club'

The next morning, she woke up, her limbs wrapped around something warm. She opened her eyes and there was Dean, sleeping soundly, his arms draped around her, pulling her closer to his bare side. If that was even possible.

If she was being honest, she could get used to waking up like this. And _God_ , did she really want to. And she really just wanted to stay in bed with him all day, missing the dreaded wedding and the similar reception altogether.

Now that would be great.

But, all too soon, Dean woke up. He looked down at her with the same expression that he wore the night before - the one that she still couldn’t understand.

“Morning.” He announced, yawning as he did so. His voice was rougher from sleep and the things that his voice alone did to her were somethings that she’d rather him not knowing about at the moment.

Or ever.

She had to put some distance between the two of them.

“Morning.” She returned before moving towards the other side of the bed to stretch out, the comforter slipping down to her lap.

She looked over at him and cataloged this just-woken-up look that Dean was able to wear oh so well. The sporadically spiked hair from sleeping on it. The muscles slightly twitching in his bare chest, preparing themselves for whatever the Winchester would do that day. The parted lips as he seemed to take in her own appearance. Her long tousled hair. His shirt that was just able to outline her figure. Her bright eyes in the morning light.

She decided hastily that there still was not enough distance between the two of them on the bed.  

She got up and went over to her bag, picking out clothes to wear for the day of the ceremony, trying her hardest to not look anywhere near Dean Winchester and his somehow effortless sleepy demeanor.

What she didn’t see was Dean watching her as she moved around the room, his eyes on her every movement. The way his shirt rode up along her thighs as she bent down to pick up something, the hem of the shirt rising to barely reveal the black and probably cotton fabric underneath.

He had to hold himself back from walking up to her and running his fingers up the side of each thigh until he reached that damned shirt, pulling it up higher in order to touch every part of her that he could. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, bringing himself back under control.

He knew that today was going to be a very long day.

The two walked down the aisle to their assigned pews - seriously, Moira assigned all the guests pews - and sat down in their respective seats. The wooden pew was just as hard as she had remembered it, yet the paintings were just as beautiful as she had remembered from Easter masses so long ago. The light that was shining through the stained glass windows brought her back to Christmas mass in the morning. She felt herself smiling as the good memories reached the front of her mind. The ones where her family was together and somewhat happy.

She was pulled out when she felt Dean’s arm around her shoulder. She averted her gaze from the windows and focused it onto Dean’s face. His eyes were asking her a question.

“My parents and I used to go here for the Christmas and Easter masses.” She scooted closer to his side, wanting to feel more of his touch.

“Yeah?” He asked, his arm wrapping itself tighter around her shoulder and his hands tracing circles into her bare skin again - he tended to do that a lot. The touching. She didn’t know whether he knew what he was doing or not, but she did know that she didn’t want him to stop touching her - even if it was all platonic.

“Yeah.” She agreed. “Good times, pretty boy, good times.” She sighed, unable to contain her smile. The other guests started to make their way into the church, commenting on how lovely the church looked that day for the occasion.

Many of her relatives complimented her on the ensemble that she had chosen to wear. Moira had told her earlier that Amy wanted the wedding - both ceremony and receptions - to be a black-tie formal event and that everyone was required to wear black. And she was a law abiding guest - or at least, that her family knew of - so of course she dressed for the occasion in a little black dress of her own that flared out just past mid-thigh.

The sleeve of Dean’s black suit jacket brushed her shoulder blades as he pulled his arm away in order to make room for more people squeezing into the pews.

The ceremony itself was extravagant. Everything was done to the nth degree and the place looked like everything that Amy could ever want.

Amy’s dress was something straight out of a fairytale. It was just like Amy had planned, back when they were children playing dress-up during the late nights when she stayed there with her parents. Amy was so different back then. They both were, she guessed. She didn’t notice that she was tearing up until Dean leaned over towards her and asked if she was alright.

She looked up at Dean, concern on his face. “When we were kids, she always dreamed about what her wedding day was going to be like. And it looks like it actually happened - right down to bridesmaid dress color and the tulle pew decorations.” She willed herself to stop the tears from falling down her face and smiled up at him. He returned it at took her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly and running his thumb over the backside of her palm. Let’s just say that if there was anything that she would ever thank God for, it would have to be waterproof mascara.

She had to admit, the ceremony itself was beautiful - even if it was a bit much. Amy truly did get everything she had wanted. It didn’t surprise her - even when they were children, Amy got first whatever it was that she wanted, especially if that meant trampling over her cousin to acquire it - but she was happy for the bride. She truly looked like she felt something for Peter. She wondered if that was what other people saw when she looked at Dean. Did they think that she was in love with the man she was with? Did they think that he was in love with her?


	6. to be admired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Lorde's 'Bravado' (does anyone else see a pattern here?)

The reception was to be held in one of the best halls - if not the best hall - in the city of Chicago immediately after the wedding ceremony. Dean led her to the Impala, his hand on the small of her back guiding her to the passenger side. After making sure she was in, he quickly walked towards the driver’s side, slid into the seat, and started the engine.

She almost forgot how bad the traffic was in Chicago - almost being the key term. It took the two what felt like forever to get the their final destination. She knew that Moira would have something to say about this, even though it was probably happening to most of the other guests attending the reception.

They got there just in time. As she walked through the doors of the floor where the reception was being held, the place was in full swing. Guests were making small talk with each other, drinking the free cocktails, and congratulating Amy and Peter on their marriage.

_Might as well get the most painful part of tonight_. She thought as she took Dean by the hand and strode over.

“It’s great to see that you could make it, cousin.” Amy sneered when she appeared in front of the newlyweds. She looked triumphant in her little dig. Peter leered at her like he had the night before.

Which really is unacceptable, considering - you know - he’s a married man now.

Dean noticed this and put his arm around the hunter’s waist, pulling her closer into his side. His smile seemed more forced that it had been all weekend, but it was still there.

“I’m glad that we could fit this weekend into our schedule. We’ve just been so busy lately.” She looked up at Dean and he looked down at her. She smiled before reaching up and kissing him quickly on the corner of his mouth before looking back at Amy and continuing on, “It seems like you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted in a wedding, Amy. And I’m happy that you’re happy.” She smiled at her cousin, trying to come across as sincere. But it was strained at best. She didn’t want to hate Amy, but it was so hard when her cousin was like this - which was all the time since they were teenagers. They just grew apart, growing out of their matching Cinderella dresses and into their different roles.

There were more people waiting, so the two left the couple and found their seats - more place cards - and she kept asking herself why all this formal stuff was necessary.

Dinner was served. Heartfelt speeches full of one’s milestones in life and funny speeches about reactions to the newlyweds getting engaged were made. The cake was soon cut and she made Dean get a slice.

“Fine. But why wedding cake? Why not a wedding pie?” Dean had asked her when she told him to get a slice for them.

“Because not everyone’s like you, Dean.” She supplied, smirking playfully at him.

“And don’t you forget it, apple pie.” He replied, kissing the top of her head before making his way to the table where the cake was being served.

“I still don’t understand how a man like that could love someone like you, sweetie.” She heard Moira say from her other side.

Okay, that was a little uncalled for. And by a little, she truly meant a lot. Like so uncalled for that not even Regina George would say something like that.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” She asked, not even trying to cover her suspicion.

She didn’t really want to hear the reply, though.

“Dear, really. He seems like the type to go after girls like Amy. Prettier, skinnier, more proper.” She looked at her aunt in disbelief. Was she really saying this to her right now? “I’m only saying. I hope that you can lead him from temptation.”

“She won’t have to.” She started when she heard Dean’s voice from right behind her. She looked towards Dean, a slice of chocolate cake in his hand and a hard expression on his face. “Seeing as I’m completely in love with your niece.” She tried to find a tell of some sort, but she couldn’t. He didn’t seem to be lying - even to her.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us. We have some cake to eat.” Dean announced, sitting down next to her and grabbing a fork before eating a piece. Moira walked away with a hmph and she turned towards Dean in disbelief.

“If you keep staring, I’m gonna finish this cake and you won’t get any.” Dean announced, his mouth full of the chocolate food. She laughed before taking her own fork and putting a chunk in her mouth, savoring the taste of the frosting and how it complemented this cake perfectly.

“You know,” Dean started as he placed the now empty plate off to the side. “She had no right to say that kind of stuff to you.”

“That’s just how she is.” She heard herself tell him. It sounded as if she were defending her aunt.

“Why?” He asked and she had to look away from him.

She decided that a good distraction would be to play with the black bracelet that she had gotten for her sixteenth birthday from her father. She rotated the beads around instead of looking at Dean’s face, because if she did look up at him, she knew that she would start to get more emotional than necessary.

“I don’t know why, Dean.” She said, closing her eyes.

It was the truth.

She had no idea why her aunt - hell, most of her family - was so judgemental of her. Always commenting on what she wore or how she acted in certain situations. What made her so different? Why did she deserve to be the one singled out at the family reunions that she was nagged into attending? Was it because of her parents? Or was it just that she was too messed up to be fixed by her family? Was she just not good enough for them?

“I honestly have no fucking clue.” She whispered.

She felt Dean’s larger hand slip over her smaller one. She opened her eyes and followed the sleeve up to his shoulder, and finally up to his face. His beautiful face.

God, Moira was right. She really didn’t deserve Dean.

Or any guy like him for that matter.

Dean must have seen all the emotions crossing her face - how could he not? It wasn’t like she was able to hide them very well at the moment. “Hey, apple pie. It’s gonna be alright.” His thumb started rubbing soft circles into her palm again. “Just one more day and we can go back home and never see your family ever again.” She laughed at that.

He made it sound so _simple._ As if they could actually endure the rest of the weekend.

She really wanted to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS I will also be putting up a companion piece (was going to be three parts but now it's two) about how the two met and fun stuff like that - so expect that soon.


	7. thinking out loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran's 'Thinking Out Loud' bc I wrote this part right when the CD came out and fell in love with this song

The DJ was now playing a song meant for the children to get up and get rid of some of their pent up energy, so Dean went to the bar to grab a couple of drinks. She meandered over towards the only family member that she could stand anymore: her Uncle Jim.

“Long time, Uncle Jim.” She announced as she stood next to him.

“Too long, Honey.” He was really the only one in her family that she allowed to give her pet names. Ever since her parents died, she had felt too grown up for them, but Uncle Jim was an exception.

He was always an exception.

The two stood in silence together. It was a comfortable silence, neither really needing to fill the air with anything in particular at the moment.

“When I married your aunt Moira,” Uncle Jim started. “I was thrown into a hurricane. Both a good thing and a not-so-good thing, mind you. And you know who made it easier?” The older man looked down at her. He paused a moment before answering his own question, “Your father.

“You know, it’s funny. The first time I met him, I had no idea he was related to the family at all.” He chuckled. “Your father was so much more different than the rest of them.

“Now, don’t get me wrong honey, they were all good people. In that way that affluent people donate money to charities or attend balls to help a politician’s campaign. But your father was different. Instead of just handing money to people, he took the time to be there at the soup kitchens or the homeless shelters. Sure, he still attended the galas and the balls with the rest of us, but it seemed that he wanted to do more, you know?” She found herself nodding. She knew that her father had always been different than Moira or the other family members. She remembered when Moira - begrudgingly - offered a part of the company to her, the young woman flat out refused. She didn’t want to end up like the rest of her family. And the fact that her aunt had asked her at her parents’ funeral didn’t make it any better.

“He just didn’t know what he wanted.” Her uncle continued. “That was, until he met your mother. When those two met,  it was like everything clicked into place for him. Everything about his future - near and far - became clear.” Uncle Jim reminisced, smiling distantly. She didn’t really know why he was telling her this, but she listened to the older man anyways, glad that one of her family members still treated her like the adult that she was.

“Your father would be proud of you.” He looked down at her, conviction in his voice.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you’ve grown up into such an astounding young woman. Your papers are amazingly written - I’ve read each one of them.” She looked up at his face then.

Yeah, she did write up little reports on the myths and legends that she and the boys deal with when going on their hunts, but she never thought that anyone but stuffy old professors read them.

“Honey,” He continued on, “You’ve created a life for yourself away from home and you don’t use your family as a crutch. You look happy with Dean. And I mean really happy. A lot of the guests joked that they might have to save up for another wedding in the near future.”

“I’m not sure about that.” She commented, looking anywhere but the knowing eyes of her uncle.

“Then I guess that it’s a good I thing that I am, honey.” He paused, as if thinking how to put what he felt into words. “You two look at each other the way that your mother and father looked at each other.”

_Too bad it’s all a sham to Dean_. She thought sadly to herself.

“And now it’s time for all the couples out there to come on over and join us on the dance floor.” She heard the DJ announce from his booth.

“You better go find your fellow.” Her uncle Jim said, his eyes smiling down at her. She smiled back - actually meaning it - and searched the area for Dean, wondering where he was. She spotted him striding towards her, setting their drinks one of the empty tables before smiling that charismatic smile of his and extending his hand. She took it without hesitation.

‘ _When your legs don't work like they used to before. And I can't sweep you off of your feet._ ’ Dean lead her out to the dance floor, towards the side so they wouldn’t interrupt any of the other couples. ‘ _Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?_ ’ He placed both of his hands on her back - a little lower than appropriate, not that she minded at all - and she connected hers around the back of his neck. ‘ _Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?_ ’ They began to sway along to the music.

‘ _And, darling, I will be loving you 'til we're seventy._ ’ The two moved side to side. ‘ _And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three._ ’ And in circles.

‘ _And I'm thinking about how people fall in love in mysterious ways. Maybe just the touch of a hand._ ’ They were perfectly in sync, reading each other as well as they do on hunts. ‘ _Well, me—I fall in love with you every single day. And I just wanna tell you I am._ ’ He was staring at her, an intensity in his eyes that almost left her breathless.

‘ _So honey now, Take me into your loving arms._ ’ She held his gaze, not wanting to break whatever connection they were having. ‘ _Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Place your head on my beating heart._ ’ He started to rub circles into the fabric of her dress again. ‘ _I'm thinking out loud that maybe we found love right where we are._ ’

‘ _When my hair's all but gone and my memory fades_.’ She distractedly ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. ‘ _And the crowds don't remember my name. When my hands don't play the strings the same way, I know you will still love me the same._ ’ She didn’t realize that she was doing anything until she felt his breath stutter as her fingernail gently scraped across a patch of skin.

‘ _'Cause honey your soul could never grow old, it's evergreen._ ’ She did it again and this time he closed his eyes, momentarily stopping his hands on her back. She was surprised that he didn’t stop moving altogether. She found herself smiling at the thought that it was her who made Dean Winchester react this way to something as simple as her light touch. ‘ _And, baby, your smile's forever in my mind and memory._ ’ She laid her head on his shoulder, unable to look at him when he opened his eyes - that was, if he ever opened them. She felt his arms tighten around her and smiled into the crook of his neck, smelling the cologne he was wearing mixed with the scents of whiskey, leather, and one that was uniquely Dean.

He pulled her closer to him - if that was even possible - and she looked up at him questioningly, only to feel his forehead now against hers. ‘ _I'm thinking about how people fall in love in mysterious ways._ ’ Like earlier that morning, she was fantasizing about staying with Dean like this for the rest of the night. ‘ _Maybe it's all part of a plan.’_ In their own little bubble. ‘ _Well, I'll just keep on making the same mistakes,_ ’ Where all that was was this moment replaying over and over again. Where it seemed like they were the only two in the room - Hell, she’d even go as far to say the whole world didn’t exist at that moment. He held her like she actually meant something to him other than an extra set of hands on a hunt. Their faces so close together that their noses bumped each other’s, causing both of them to let out a breathless laugh. ‘ _Hoping that you'll understand._ ’ It was almost as if this was supposed to mean something different for the pair. As if this was going to change something between them. As if there was something more and that they could make something work.

But that would never work. ‘ _But, baby, now, Take me into your loving arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars._ ’ She would have to go back to the Bunker and go back to pretending that she didn’t have feelings for the man who made her laugh at the worst times, who always knew what she wanted in her coffee - even though she had never told him before -  and who actually agreed to go with her to this stupid ‘Amy is better than everyone’ weekend. ‘ _Place your head on my beating heart._ ’ She didn’t want to go back to that. To acting like all those other women that he hooked up with didn’t bother her. To brushing off his side comments about her needing to get out of the dry spell that she was having. ‘ _Thinking out loud. That maybe we found love right where we are._ ’ She didn’t want to go back to that. Not after this weekend and the way he was holding her in his arms right now, as if he needed her as much as she needed him.

‘ _So, baby, now, Take me into your loving arms._ ’ She tightened her arms around his neck, not wanted to ever let go of this man. ‘ _Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars._ ’ He tightened his hold on her, pulling her until she was flush against him. ‘ _Oh, darling, place your head on my beating heart. I'm thinking out loud._ ’ If he managed to pull her any closer, she was sure that she’d mold into him - the two becoming one person. Who - if she was honest - would be an unstoppable force. And a very attractive one at that. ‘ _That maybe we found love right where we are_.’ She could feel his warm breath on her face, they were so close. Their foreheads were still touching. ‘ _Oh, baby, we found love right where we are._ ’ The song was winding down to its end. ‘ _And we found love right where we are._ ’

The song ended and like that, the spell that the two of them were under was broken.

Somewhat.

She looked up at Dean. His eyes were dark and she didn’t know what she had done to make them that way. She looked around, unable to meet his gaze any longer, and noticed that many of the other people around the floor glancing over at them, trying to seem fleeting and subtle, but failing miserably. Even Amy and Peter were glimpsing over at the two, which made her blush.

Dean noticed this and pulled her with him off the dance floor, returning to their drinks.

“Can we get out of here?” She asked once they were done, drained by the social gathering.

“Yeah. There’s too many socialites in one place for my taste.” He joked, making her smile.


	8. lover's spit left on repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Apple pie,” Dean started, but didn’t continue.  
> “Yeah?” She urged him on, wanting to hear what he had to say.  
> “Tell me to stop.” She paused and looked up at him.  
> “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Lorde's 'Ribs' 
> 
> This one's probs my fav chapter out of the whole story :)

Dean parked the Impala in the hotel’s parking lot and walked around to her side where he opened the door for her. She took his proffered hand and smiled as she let him help her out.

He led her through the lobby and to the elevator, where the elevator dinged soon after he pressed the button. The two got inside the empty box, but he didn’t let go of her hand.

She didn’t mind.

At all.

In truth, she wanted them to ride out this little act of theirs for as long as humanly possible.

She wondered if he felt the same way she did.

The elevator door opened to their floor and the two made their way towards their room. Dean unlocked the door and led her in.

He finally let got of her hand as he made his way towards their little kitchenette, starting to undo his tie. She followed him in, grabbing a bottle of water while he pulled a bottle of the hotel’s complimentary alcohol, taking out a glass and pouring some in. She leaned on the counter as he did, watching his hands as they moved.

“Need anything?” The Winchester asked.

“Nope,” She answered. “Just enjoying the view.” She smirked when he chuckled.

He turned towards her and she couldn’t help herself. “Have I ever told you that you look good in a suit?” She blame her outburst on how Dean was ruining her with that undone tie around his collar.

It was just too much to ignore.

“And you don’t do too bad, yourself, apple pie.” She tried not to blush, but that didn’t work out very well as she felt her skin get warm.

“That was so cheesy.” She attempted to cover up her blushing as it slowly spread down her neck and down her chest. She caught his eyes following her flush travel down her body, making her skin color even further. She got a feeling that she wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

“Need something?” She had no idea where she got the courage to say that, but she somehow did and now his eyes snapped up to her face, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips and a flush of his own appearing on his freckled skin.

She really did want to find how far the coloring would travel.

But his smile changed from sheepish to charming real fast. “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ - just like she had done - and took a small step closer to her. “Just enjoying the view.”

“Oh really?” She asked, mirroring him by taking a step of her own in his direction. She watched as his eyes jumped to her lips and back to her eyes.

“Uh huh.” It seemed like his was unable to make complete sentences.

She placed her hand on his shoulder, smiling at the bracelet before looking back at his face. “Is that so?”

Where had this surge of confidence come from?

“Uh huh.” He repeated himself, inept to say anything else at the moment.

Her hand traveled up his shoulder to the nape of his neck, where she began to play with the short hairs there.

Then a thought came to the front of her mind. “I want to thank you for doing this with me.”

“Anytime.” His free hand come to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him.

"I’m serious.” She quietly giggled at the soft touch. She leaned a little closer into him.

“I know.” He copied her.

His face was so close to hers.

_ Oh God. _

This was going to happen, wasn’t it?

Their noses brushed up against each other’s.

She could feel his sweetened breath ghost across her face.

Oh holy shit, it was going to happen.

And she really wanted it to.

“Apple pie,” Dean started, but didn’t continue.

“Yeah?” She urged him on, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“Tell me to stop.” She paused and looked up at him.

Was he serious?

But the darkened look in his eyes told her that he was anything but serious.

That he really did want this as much as she did.

“No.” And then his lips brushed against hers. It was soft - hesitant. She matched him, not wanting to scare him away for some reason - like he was a deer or something.

Which he wasn’t, but a part of her didn’t want to mess this up.

It was like a switch turned on in the Winchester, because next thing she knew, this gentle kiss turned into something full of desperation - hard and fast. She followed him, move for move. Her hands gripped onto his hair tighter, spurring him to moan and push her against the counter.

His jacket was suddenly in the way. So her hands quickly slid it off his shoulders and down his arms. The next thing to go was the tie. And then a couple buttons came undone. She had no idea how that happened - whether it was by her or his hands - but there was no way in hell she was complaining.

Her fingers divulged under his crisp white button up and made contact with his anti-possession tattoo. Her fingernails trailed up from that tattoo towards his neck. And again he made this unholy sound that sent her mind sprawling.

She felt his hands rove down to her hips and then she was on the countertop, his body in between her separated legs. Her shoes fell to the ground with a clack. How that had exactly happened, she wasn’t too sure. But - yet again - she wasn’t complaining.

If she had known that slow dancing with Dean Winchester would have lead to her on top of the marble counter, passionately kissing him, she would have done this a long long time ago.

His mouth left hers and trailed hot kisses down her neck to where her shoulder began.

And she made a noise that she was sure to be mortified about the next morning. But right now all that mattered was that Dean was pressed against her and currently traveling down lower to the neckline of her dress.

_You’re killing me here_. She thought as his lips moved back up to her’s.

Then he stopped.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, bewildered as to why he would stop now.

“Do you want this?” He asked her, his eyes - even darker than before - boring into hers.

“Why wouldn’t I?” It was a legitimate question. Why wouldn’t she want to act out a long time fantasy of hers?

“‘Cause you can do so much better than me.”

She moved to the crook of his neck. “And vice versa, Casanova.” She said before beginning to leave wandering kisses across his skin.

She could feel his breath hitch. “I’m being serious.” He got out. Her hands left his hair and trailed down his back.

“And so am I.” She gave his butt a little squeeze, her lips still grazing his heated skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Dean,” She lifted herself so that they’d be face to face. “Are _you_?” She asked, anxiety started to creep up inside her chest, slowly replacing the want from a couple seconds ago. She took her hands off his ass and placed them at her sides on the counter. ”Because I thought that this was going to be mutual. but if it’s not,” She looked down at her bracelet, not wanting to have to think about the possibility. “Then we can stop and forget this had ever happened.” She straightened out her arms, ready to jump off the counter.

“That’s not what I want.” He said quickly. Her elbows relaxed in relief.

“That’s not what I want either.” She admitted. “But if you’re not ready for _this_ ,” She gestured towards herself. “Then we don’t have to do this.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to touch you like this?” He leaned into her again.

Her mind blanked for a moment, not knowing what to say back.

He really did want this.

It wasn’t just her.

And now she understood that look he had been shooting her over the weekend.

“Then why’d you stop?”

And just like that, his lips crashed on to hers, his hands moving both everywhere and nowhere at once. Her brain could hardly keep up with him.

But her own hands were able to retake their rightful place at his butt, so that was a plus.

She had to relinquish that little victory when she helped him unzip her dress - zippers aren’t complicated, so why was it always hard for men to undo them? - and shimmied out of it.

She was left in her matching bra and pantie set. And she was so glad with her choice of underwear as she watched Dean’s eyes roam down her body, his fingers ghosting over her sides as he did so.

She heard herself giggle as he looked back up at her with widened eyes and a smile that could power the city of Chicago.

“C’mere.” She giggled again as the Winchester slid her off the table and into his arms.

This was really going to happen.

His warm arms were a nice change from the cold counter top.

Dean Winchester carried her bridal style to the bed before laying her gently down on the cream comforter, as if she was made of glass and could break at any time.

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes focused on her, and climbed up next to her. He pulled her on top of him so that she was sitting on his lap.

The two laughed a little as they leaned in again, his hand falling at her hips and hers going for his hair again.

She had a feeling they were going to be preoccupied for the rest of the night.


	9. million bad habits to kick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She and Dean strolled into the vestibule, again one of the last ones to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Lorde's 'A World Alone'

She and Dean strolled into the vestibule, again one of the last ones to arrive.

But she didn’t care.

Nope. Not one bit.

It was probably because Dean’s hand was on the small of her back and even though it was normal, it felt so much more intimate. And he was rubbing small circles into the fabric of her flowered sundress.

And it was amazing.

And she was feeling light-headed, but in the good way and she just really didn’t want him to stop touching her.

Like at all.

Or ever.

“Glad to see you two could join us.” Moira sneered over at the two as they took their places at the table.  Amy, Peter, Moira, and Uncle Jim were also around the table. The newly wedded girl was giving her a carbon copy of her mother’s facial expression.

But she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore.

Because Dean was still touching her.

Even after they had sat down.

“That’s a nice dress, Honey.” Her uncle smiled over at her, much to Moira’s visible disdain.

The hunter looked down at the flowery pink and dark green leaves randomly patterned on the cream fabric. “Thanks, Uncle Jim.”

Dean chuckled under his breath and tightened his hold on her bare knee.

That dress had better be nice. It had taken her two tries to get slip the damned thing on.

The first time had been thwarted when Dean had decided to pull her from behind and take her back to their bed.

And then she had to retake her shower - which Dean had insisted on helping her out with. It wasn’t really helpful in the long run, but that didn’t really matter - because, you know, semantics.

Anyways, Breakfast was being served around the several tables as the newlywed couple began to thank everyone for joining them in their ‘special day’.

It was complete bullshit, but - like she had said earlier - she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Because this foreign omelette-thing was so good.

And because Dean’s hand was still tracing patterns onto whatever conventionally uncovered skin he could get to.

And it was nice.

And she was happy. So happy that nothing being said or done against her could bother her.

And we’ve been able to make a full circle.

Soon after Amy and Peter finished eating, the two got some of the people to bring them their gifts for them.

Dean leaned into her and whispered in her ear, “We got them something, right?”

She turned into him slightly, so that their noses were brushing against each other. “Followed their registry. Target is a life saver.” She smiled at him and he laughed again before  kissing her cheekbone and turning back to the couple as they unwrapped a set of china.

They were so much closer now - both physically and emotionally.

And she loved it.

A few more gifts were opened as gazed upon until she recognized the elegantly wrapped item that she had gotten.

“There’s no card on it.” Amy said questioningly.

“Just open it.” Peter scoffed. “Dear.” He added as an afterthought. The hunter widened her eyes a little as she watched Amy throw a withering look at her husband before undoing the wrapping.

“It’s a,” She opened the box and looked into it before plastering a fake smile on her face for everyone else to see. “A knife set.” She took the set out and lo and behold, underneath the wooden carrier was a card. “Ooh. There it is!” She exclaimed before opening it.

She cleared her throat before reading the inscription. “‘ _Dear Amy, thank you for-_ ’”

“What about me?” Peter asked indignantly, holding his nose up and looking at the card as if it had taken away his honor.

“They probably just forgot, Dear.” Then the girl started up again from where she was interrupted, “‘ _Thank you for letting us into your special day._ ’ Oh, how sweet.” She cooed before continuing on, “‘ _Be careful and only use the knives if you absolutely have to. Much love._ ’” Amy’s voice grew more uncertain as she finished the note, ending with the two hunters’ names.

Amy looked at her cousin in a mixture of confusion and petulance. Dean turned his face into the side of her neck and tried to silence his snort. The hunter could only smile at the couple.

“Now, I’m being serious.” She tried to use an authoritative voice, like  a teacher scolding one of her pupils. “I don’t want to have to travel back here to do a paper on the young couple that tried to get freaky with a set of steak knives.” She smirked at Amy. “Ya feel me?”

Now Dean was slightly shaking against her body, unable to keep himself completely in control of himself. The others around the table just looked at her with astounded expressions. Amy stared at her as if she had grown another head. Peter sputtered and looked down at her as if she was a piece of gum that had found its way onto his expensive boat shoes. Moira looked at her with complete horror. And Uncle Jim actually looked like he was adjusting pretty well to the awkward humor of the situation.

“Just like your old man, you are.” He smiled over at her and she smiled back. Dean had moved away from her neck and took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles.

“I’m joking!” She laughed. “Please,” She begged. “Continue on with the gifts!”

Soon all the gifts were unwrapped - a lot of them were just gift cards - and people were starting to head home from the weekend escape.

She and Dean got up and started to depart as well. But she stopped before the two could leave and turned back to Amy - who was bickering with her husband. She quickly walked up to her cousin and wrapped her arms around the new wife. “Thank you for inviting us.” The woman in general tensed up a little bit eased into the embrace somewhat. The hunter pulled away just enough to look at her cousin. “I’m so proud of you, Amy.”

“Thanks.” The two finally pulled away from each other.

The hunter started to make her way towards a waiting Dean. But a light voice called out to her, prompting her to turn around. “Call us whenever you’re in Chicago.” Amy said loudly. “We’ll do dinner and a show.”

“You’ve got it.” The hunter agreed before turning back to Dean and walking back to their room to repack and head back to the Bunker.

She had a smile on the whole way there. Amy didn’t totally hate her.

And Dean had reached over the console of the Impala and started to trace patterns again on her hand again early in on the drive back. And he hadn’t let go.

And she was happy.

“You know,” Dean started as the two entered the Bunker. “Sam won’t be back for a couple of days.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

“I wonder how we could possibly spend the time.” She smirked up at him before pulling him towards her. He lifted her up and carried her to his room, which was only the beginning of their various escapades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I sincerely hope you all liked reading this little thing - tell me if you did!

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what yo think!  
> Come cry with me on [tumblr?](http://livelaughloveboo.tumblr.com)
> 
> Remember to Smile :)  
> ~Becca


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